


Arcadian Breezes

by merry_amelie



Series: Academic Arcadia [276]
Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Alternate Reality, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-28 12:55:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14449719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merry_amelie/pseuds/merry_amelie
Summary: A breezy spring night is perfect for romance.





	Arcadian Breezes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Helen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helen/gifts), [InfiniteJediLove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/InfiniteJediLove/gifts).



> Feedback: Is treasured at merryamelie@aol.com (or leave a comment).
> 
> Disclaimer: Mr. Lucas owns everything Star Wars. I'm not making any money.
> 
> For  
> My beta Helen  
> Laura McEwan for posting to the Master Apprentice ML  
> Travis for posting to the Master Apprentice Archive on AO3  
> Alex for inspiring Arcadia 
> 
> References:  
> [Bermuda Breezes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11050047)  
> [Eagles – Hotel California Lyrics | Genius Lyrics](https://genius.com/Eagles-hotel-california-lyrics)  
> [Yellow Bird Lyrics - The Mills Brothers - LyricsFreak.com](http://www.lyricsfreak.com/t/the+mills+brothers/yellow+bird_20844295.html)
> 
>  
> 
> Swinging on the porch:  
> [Sweater Weather](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4127694)  
> [The Porch of July](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1952985)  
> [Porch Song](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12028335)

Quinn chuckled in ticklish pleasure when a delicate white petal landed on his cheek with the lightest touch imaginable.

He was sitting on the porch swing, playing guitar for his lad on the evening of Sunday, April 22nd and was stopped in mid-chord by this little burst of the Living Force. Seemingly overnight, his jonquils, marigolds, and periwinkles had bloomed into boisterous life, and the back yard was as colorful as the rainbow flag they had flying by the porch light. And it was the first time this season that the temperature had stayed in the 60s after sundown.

It was Earth Day 2018, and Alder Run was celebrating the holiday in all its glory, with burgeoning trees, flowers, and greenery. It felt like high spring already. Quinn had devoted ten minutes of his Friday class, as he did every year at this time, to his dream of a clean green and blue planet, and had the satisfaction of seeing the spark of nascent environmentalism ignite in his students' eyes. But here and now, sitting with his laddie out in the wooded paradise of their own backyard was the best part of the day for him.

And Arbor Day was coming up on Friday, in only five days. Quinn had already asked Ian to plant another tree with him, to celebrate the 15th anniversary of their meeting on the Amtrak Acela. He had chosen an alder tree this time, both as a nod to their hometown, and as a way to put down more literal roots after their twelve blissful years in Alder Run. Leave it to his irrepressible lad to joke that they would be aldermen from then on.

But at the moment, the two of them were wearing their Skyhawks t-shirts and heather-grey shorts to take full advantage of the balmy weather. Their sneakers were brand-new pairs of Air Jedi, which, according to Ray Bradbury in his masterpiece, 'Dandelion Wine', gave them limitless potential for the summertime to come.

The petal that was lucky enough to land on Quinn's cheek came from the most cherished tree in their backyard, one of inestimable value to their whole family. They had planted the dogwood tree in Lelia's honor a few yards away from the porch swing, just a couple of months after they'd first moved into their home in January of 2006. She wasn't even all of two years old yet. But the tree grew with her, and now that little sapling was over 15 feet tall; it was thriving, just like Lelia herself. And the breeze was fluttering a shower of petals in a springtime dance around the yard, apparently having the good sense to choose Quinn as a dance partner.

Ian reached up to capture the petal on the pad of his forefinger, tickling Quinn even more, then slipped it into his shirt pocket. He would put it in a sleeve of their latest photo album, where they kept mementos, neatly labeled as the first blossom of spring to have the good fortune to alight on his husband this year.

Quinn drew him in for a kiss, unable to resist the lure of Ian's succulent lips when his lad was so close to him. Fortunately, Ian was seated on the side of the swing with the neck of the guitar, not the bulky body, so it was easier to reach his little bit o' heaven.

Ian gave out a happy sigh. "Okay, this is even better than hearing you play 'Yellow Bird'," the song that had been interrupted when the blossom breezed by. He ran his tongue over his lips, eagerly searching for Quinn's taste.

Quinn chuckled again, delighted that he still had this kind of effect on Ian after almost fifteen years together. "Glad I haven't lost my touch," he rumbled.

"Jedi Masters *never* lose their touch," said Ian, with some asperity.

Quinn snorted. "Well, I'm happy we've settled that, then." He went back to strumming his guitar, the porch light adding golden highlights to his chestnut hair.

Every time Quinn played 'Yellow Bird' now, it was evocative of their cruise to Bermuda last year, where they'd heard it performed by the calypso band during their bon voyage party aboard the QO2. Ian thought Quinn sounded almost as resonant as Harry Belafonte himself, which could only be explained by hearing him sing through the ears of love.

Quinn started the song from the beginning, adapting the lyrics, as was his wont:

"Yellow bird, up high in banana tree.  
Yellow bird, you sit with your love like me.  
You can fly away in the sky away.  
You're as lucky as me."

Ian took to Quinn's improvised version instantly and joined him in a sweet duet of the adapted lyrics, which were much more cheerful than the original song. They didn't know it, but Mr. and Mrs. Chang could hear them next door as their voices carried faintly on the breeze, and, luckily, their neighbors enjoyed every word, both old and new. The professors were made to perform, even when they didn't realize that's what they were doing.

And they were luckier still that the Changs couldn't hear their private conversation, only the singing because that was louder, what with their voices blending together Forcefully.

They sang the revised song a couple of times before the last chord faded into silence. Then both of them took a sip of their mocha macchiatos; singing was thirsty work, after all, just like lecturing. Quinn reached over to the side table for one of Prudence's peppermint-iced brownies and held out another one for Ian to bite into. He smiled indulgently at the blissful look on his laddie's face as he nibbled the brownie.

"Ready for bed, little lad? Or maybe you'd like another song first?" asked Quinn, his eyes crinkling tenderly.

"Just one more," Ian said, in between bites of the brownie. "How 'bout 'Hotel California'?"

Quinn's eyes lit up; Ian had picked one of his favorites to play.

"On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair  
Warm smell of colitas, rising up through the air..."

Even though they were in verdant Alder Run, instead of a desert in California, they could certainly smell the flowers surrounding them in their garden. Long after the last refrain, the swing creaked gently into the night, Quinn's serenade taken up by the pairs of owls and nightjars in the yard.

Eventually, Quinn pulled a drowsy Ian to his feet, and they headed indoors. Quinn put the guitar away in his office, then went back outside to get the snack tray on the porch table. He brought it to the kitchen, and checked on Artoo and Sandy while he was there. Ian closed all of the windows first, only locking up for the night after Quinn had come in from the porch. By the time Quinn had finished his ablutions in the guest bathroom, Ian was already in bed, relaxed from his shower, with copper strands darkened from his hair wash.

Quinn was dressed in his cotton pajama shorts, but he did a double take when he pulled back the blanket. Ian was wearing nothing at all and was only covered by a thin blue sheet, which was peaking up in a most delectable way at his groin. Grinning over at him, with mischief lighting his eyes, Ian was at his most irresistible. Quinn smiled back, flush with anticipation, and stripped off his pajamas without a word, tossing them somewhere in the vicinity of the easy chair. He dove into bed and took his lad in his arms with Force-enhanced speed.

"Thought you were too tired to play tonight, darlin'," Quinn rumbled into copper hair.

Ian laughed merrily. "I thought so, too. But the shower woke me right away." He nuzzled Quinn's neck. "I tend to get the most delicious ideas in there, and they perked me up." He nudged the sheet aside to let Quinn see that his words were literally true. Even without a touch, his erection was standing tall, just waiting for Quinn to savor.

"Mmmmm!" Quinn said. He couldn't have salivated more if he were anticipating a twelve-course feast. "Is all of this for me?" At Ian's breathless nod, Quinn grabbed his cock, using the touch his herven liked the best -- tender and firm at the same time. He got up on his elbow, so he could easily reach Ian from tip to root. He petted Ian's balls, earning a low moan, then teased the glans with his thumb, knowing his husband loved the feel of the callus there as it dragged over him, a bit roughly.

"Would you like it slow?" drawled Quinn, teasing him with his words as well as his hands.

Ian barely got out a "Fuck, yeah!" along with a shiver.

Quinn's touch gentled, then he took his hand off Ian's cock completely, making Ian moan in frustration this time. "Changed your mind already?"

Ian shook his head and mumbled, "Nah." He flexed his hips, trying to tempt Quinn back to his erection.

Quinn chuckled while he pressed tiny kisses all over his lad's hair, face, and arms, luxuriating in Ian's scent of herbal shampoo and a hint of Irish Spring, from his shower at Luke after gymnastics practice this afternoon. He followed the kisses up with little licks and touches, expanding his attentions to his herven's chest and stomach. Ian was writhing under him as if he were ready to come at any second, and the one word on his lips was a wailing, "Quiiiii!" Quinn felt Ian's dots of precome slick along the skin of his arm, while his own drizzled onto the sheets.

When Quinn returned to Ian's begging cock, he lavished it with loving strokes up and down in an endless glide. His husband's eyes were a deep emerald green, and somehow Quinn knew that it was essential to kiss him now if he wanted to make it in time for Ian's orgasm. He kissed him hungrily, his own passion blending with Ian's.

That was it, as Ian came in ecstatic rushes all over himself and Quinn, not to mention the sheets. He relaxed into a happy puddle and gave Quinn a big grin. "You're spoilin' me, ma gradh," he said after he'd caught his breath.

"What's a hubby for?" said Quinn indulgently. He cleaned up both of them with a handful of tissues, then lay on his back, in the same predicament his herven was earlier, with his cock as hard as duranium, straining towards the ceiling. But he was content to wait until Ian was ready for him.

Fortunately for Quinn, he had a gymnast for a husband, whose recharge time was almost as quick as when he was in his 20s. After a few moments of rest, Ian asked, "What are you in the mood for tonight?"

"I'd love to get inside you," Quinn said simply.

A shiver ran through both of them at that statement.

Quinn reached for the nearly empty tube of berry lube in his night stand and prepared himself first, then Ian. Before getting on top of his husband, he angled Ian's legs just right and gave him a reverent kiss on the bridge of his nose, a ritual never forgotten. He thrust home in one great jab, which left both of them gasping.

"Good thing I came already," Ian grated out.

Quinn didn't bother to answer, concentrating only on Ian's pleasure and his own. He set a driving pace, since he was already so turned on, and this could only be called Force-enhanced sex. His grunts blended with Ian's shouts, and their duet was even more beautiful than the one on the porch swing earlier that night.

An endless time later, Ian's hips snapped up in just the right way, and both of them groaned their orgasms into each other's mouth as they kissed. Quinn's arms gave out, so he landed heavily on Ian and started to roll off. But Ian wasn't having any of it. His arms tightened around his husband, keeping him right there with him. Heaving breaths slowed to normal, as their shuddering subsided.

"Love you," they whispered together.

Quinn reached over for the tissues and reluctantly peeled himself off his husband, before wiping away the cream on Ian and himself. "We could do with the economy size, now, couldn't we, darlin'?"

"Sure could," said Ian. "And that's not to mention the lube." He snorfled so hard he almost asked Quinn for one more tissue.

Their laughter blended the way that all of their duets had earlier tonight. The sound of the Living Force at play.


End file.
